Hopeless Survival
by Dale Luck
Summary: This story will be updated when I have the time. From the beginning of the virus spreading throughout London, witness the survival of one teenage boy as he has to leave his life before.
1. Prologue

**More of this story will be written. For those that don't know what 28 Days Later is, it's basically a movie about a virus (called the RAGE virus) that spreads throughout London, and apparently the world, that makes people go into a constant stage of anger and attempt to kill and beat the crap out of anything that moves.**

**I suggest watching the movie.**

"And in other news, an animal testing facility was broken into yesterday, and all of it's test subject - mainly monkies - escaped, and are believed to still be roaming the streets. If anyone spots these animals loose, we suggest you call the number at the end of this program immed-"

Mum switched over the channel before violently coughing into her hands. She never was did like the news.

"I thought you were joking when you said you were allergic to the news?" I laughed, before going into the kitchen to get the cough medicine.

"It's just a sore throat," she called to me from the other room, "Nothing to worry about."

When I gave her a teaspoon and the cough medicine, she said, "Oh you are a good lad."

I smiled and left the room to go to my bedroom. While going up the stairs, I heard my mum turn back to the news.

"-if you haven't got plans to leave your house, then we suggest staying inside. This is an official alert from the govern-"

I stopped myself from listening to it anymore. I was always the glass half-empty kind of guy, and I didn't want to give myself any ideas just because of some sort of illness going around.

"Probably just the flu..." I muttered to myself, before going upstairs and unlocking my bedroom door.

In the distance I heard a scream. Not very loud, but loud enough to keep me from sleeping that night. I heard my mum crying, apparently thinking I couldn't hear her.

I've never felt so sad.

I should have watched the news that night. I should have done what they said.


	2. Chapter 1

That was 3 days ago.

Now, the city's overrun with people ripping each other apart. Noone knows how the virus was made, or even why, but it's bad. Really, really bad.

It started after the night where it was on the news. I crashing of glass woke me up from my nightmares, and downstairs I heard the screams of my mum. I quickly ran downstairs, still in my pyjamas, to see her being ripped apart, her screams splitting my ears like a banshee.

I'll always hear those screams, in my dreams, in the back of my head, knowing the last thing she felt was pain. Pure and utter pain.

I screamed, which was a bad choice on my part. The mans neck twisted unnaturally fast and he roared so loud it would have made lions proud. He jumped off of my now obviously decapitated mother and ran straight for me.

I gasped and slid the door shut (it's one of those ones you pull sideways. He crashed headfirst into it, making it crack, but not enough to get through. I took this minor diversion to run upstairs.

Yet another bad choice.

When I got to the top of the stairs I heard the door crack in and another roar rip through the air like a chainsaw through butter. I ran into my room and locked it, putting the key in my pocket on my shirt.

No matter how much of a pessimist I am, I do happen to always have a plan.

I picked up my coat and picked up the things I'd think would be useful: my mobile; my silver iPod Shuffle (what good is escaping without some good music); my wallet; and my swiss-army knife (in case of attackers, desperate situations or wanting to uncork a wine bottle - of course).

I placed them all in my coat pockets, put on the coat and opened the window wide, heart-beating like a nightclub in fast-forward.

I stood carefully on the window sill, holding onto the window frame with one hand and feeling for the drain pipe with the other. I held onto it once I'd found it and pulled myself up. The drainpipe on my house was made of very sturdy material (possibly hard plastic or metal), and I was relatively light, making it an easy task.

Once I had pulled my feet up, I heard my door get knocked down and the man searching the room thoroughly. And by "searching the room", I mean tearing everything apart like a christmas present given to a 5 year old.

I sat down on the tiles, positioning myself carefully so as not to slide off. I felt tears come to my eyes, but I quickly wiped them away. This was no time for crying.

I looked around the street, seeing other houses already broken into and bodies littering the streets.

I passed out.


End file.
